


Bunches of Braids

by Iarwain, scarlett_starlett



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Ellie just wants her hair did, Gwen is a Good Wing Woman, Humor, If you consider watching YouTube videos and then meeting your YouTube crush in real life, M/M, Meet-Cute, Natasha Romanov teaches the next generation of potential spies, YouTube Famous AU, fluff and comfort, no pain here, only fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iarwain/pseuds/Iarwain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlett_starlett/pseuds/scarlett_starlett
Summary: Wade runs an extremely popular hair tutorial YouTube channel with his daughter, Ellie, and Peter can’t seem to stop watching it. Imagine his surprise when it turns out the mysterious YouTube star enrolled his daughter in the very same recreation building he works in as a ballet instructor.Prompt #34 in the SpideyPool Prompt Bang!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> This is our contribution to the Spideypool Prompt Bang! We had a really fun time with this prompt, it was the one of the few that Iarwain and I wanted, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as we enjoyed writing it! I also want to thank our beta reader, Lanen, for both reading over our work and giving extremely helpful criticism and also supporting us through it all! 
> 
> We will be posting part two of this fic within the next week or so. With that being said, I hope you all enjoy Wade and Peter fumbling around each other while Ellie and Nat watch in faint disdain lmao.

Peter promises it began as strictly professional interest in learning how to style hair because he was sick of his ballet kids performing with the usual high ponytail or single braid. Gwen had become a life saver when she volunteered some of her time to groom his kids with all sorts of beautiful hairstyles for their performances and even during rehearsals for added atmosphere. His kids _loved it._ There was a noticeable increase in their engagement and eagerness when they knew Gwen was going to style their hair “all pretty” and they _loved_ cooing and aweing over each other’s hairdos afterwards.

 

But Gwen had recently taken on another dance group and no longer had as much time to spare; at least, not enough to style ten or so little girls with a variety of hair lengths and textures every time they met up for rehearsal, or worse, a performance.

 

 _“So, this might seem like a bad idea and probably grounds for child endangerment unless a harness is used_ _—_ _LIKE SO. Nice try, CPS, but I’ve got six of these in a variety of colors, including Matches the Color of my Suit red,”_ the gruff, raspy voice cackles from the speaker of Peter’s phone, “ _but trust me, it’ll work, because doing a zipper braid updo is a fucking nightmare if your kids hair isn’t soaking wet. I don’t care what anyone else thinks_ _—_ _”_

 

_“Daddy, why do I have to sit in the sink?”_

 

 _“Shh, sweetheart, that’s what the harness is for,”_ the man coos. Peter sniggers while Ellie, the little girl subjected to all of her father’s crazy hairdos, squeals when he promptly sprays her head soaking wet. She bursts into laughter and wiggles around in the sink but the man had modified one of those hanging harnesses to her body and attached it on the ceiling, from what Peter can see, and the little girl was now swaying and also getting sprayed down. _“There we go! Now we can actually start this video!”_

 

 _“Why couldn’t we just use the shower sprayer?!”_ Ellie shrieks then starts giggling when the hand holding the sink sprayer goes slack and there’s a brief silence.

 

_“Because - because Daddy says using the sink is better! Clearly. I mean, look at your hair. Amazing. I’m a genius in my craft.”_

 

_“Nuh-uh! You didn’t know you could use the shower sprayer coz you’re BALD and you take BATHS!”_

 

_“WORDS HURT, ELLIE.”_

 

Peter chokes on his drink and has to pause the video to cough through his laughter, but it just gets worse when he resumes the video and the next 5 minutes are the two trying to outmatch each other by raising their voices until Ellie’s dad is singing a really bad cover of Whams! _Wake me Up Before You Go-Go_ and Ellie is flailing her arms and demanding a refund _._

 

_“What refund? I buy everything for you, you have nothing to complain about. I am your FATHER and I demand a modicum of respect, and maybe a bean and cheese burrito for my services.”_

 

_“I didn’t ask for this.”_

 

 _“Touche, but life is all about not asking for anything and getting it anyway--or so Law and Order taught me growing up, ”_ he shrugs and then points at the side of Ellie’s head, at the part he’d meticulously made during their inane argument. _“See that, folks? That part there is important. No part, no zipper.”_

 

 _“No zipper, no braid!”_ Ellie chimes in afterward.

 

“ _Atta’ girl. You are really good at dealing with the stuff you didn’t ask for.”_

 

 _“I have tutoring in an hour and my feet can’t reach the pedals yet so I need you to drive me and that’s why I’m here letting you pull my hair,”_ Ellie responds cheerily, letting her dad style her hair. Peter is sometimes mystified by Ellie’s mature answers; she couldn’t be older than some of the little girls he teaches in the studio and yet Ellie always sounds a few steps ahead of them. Peter can’t help but smile a little wider when her father fist pumps on camera, always so expressive in his body language and tone that Peter never doubted his joviality and adoration for his daughter.

 

“ _Good. Stick it to the old people. We ruined the economy, the environment, and, to an extent, the original cheeseburger as a whole. Never let me forget that.”_

 

_“Kay.”_

 

 _Oh, jeez,_ Peter thinks, biting back a grin, rubbing his eyes out to hide it as he lowers his phone from his face. He opens up the comments and has a really embarrassing time trying push back every urge in him that’s telling him to just _spill his utmost admiration and awe at the fact that he’s a superdad and, also, the fact that his biceps are bigger than his waist and that is AMAZING_ but then that really _would_ be pushing it and this was a kid-friendly channel. Sort of. The dad’s comments were always vague enough that Ellie didn’t catch onto them, but overt enough that adults tuning in could let out a few sniggers at the implications. _Ugh, he’s such a_ **_good_ ** _dad_ _—_

 

“Peter! There you are! What the heck are you doing in the store room, you weirdo, I've been looking _everywhere_ for you!”

 

“NOTHING—ow, shoot, _dang it_ ,” Peter desperately tries to grab his phone and barely manages to catch it right before it hits the floor. He hastily turns it off and looks up into the unamused gaze of one Gwen Stacy, who taps her foot on the ground and tilts her head at her best friend’s look of sheepish guilt. “Oh. Uh. Hey. Gwen, how’s it, ah, how’s it going?”

 

“Slow, because you were supposed to come in _fifteen minutes ago_ to help me rehearse with my students for the upcoming _production_ that _we are both_ going to be in,” Gwen reminds, and Peter wonders just how high she could get that brow to go in sheer disappointment.

 

“Right. I'm really sorry, it just slipped my mind. Everyone seems to need me for something nowadays and I’m really bad at remembering who I actually agreed to help,” Peter hastily stands, shoving the phone in his pocket.

 

“You need a calendar, like me,” Gwen preens, whipping her phone out and wiggling it triumphantly at him. “I have everything color-coded with exact start and end times, and fifteen minute _reminders._ ”

 

Peter rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, a grin pulling on his face. “Oh, _no,_ color-coded events and reminders! How will I ever reach that level of nerdom?”

 

“Shut it, you’re just as much of a nerd as I am,” Gwen snorts, slipping her phone back in the secret side pocket of her leggings. “I seem to remember _different highlighters for different classes_ and _pocket protectors_ when we were in high school? _”_

 

“Ink stains are hard to remove,” Peter grumbles defensively under his breath, but doesn’t deny it. Highschool had been _rough,_ and that was without the fact that Peter stuck too closely to the nerd stereotype. “Nat has been trying to convince me to be a human punching bag for the new wave of potential Jiu Jitsu students next month and my fragile bird bones can't take that kinda’ abuse. That’s also why I’ve been hiding out in the store room. It’s the only place she isn’t allowed in.”

 

“I don't know, I think you can do it. Your toes say otherwise.”

 

“Please don't remind me of my future arthritis pains.”

 

“You just need to find someone who's willing to massage your feet like _me_ ,” Gwen states smugly, lifting a leg above her head as if to showcase.

 

“The fact that _Harry Osborn,_ next CEO in line for Oscorp biotech, is willing to kneel and rub your feet is absolutely fascinating to me because once I asked him if he’d hand me a pencil that was right next his hand and he told me he doesn’t _use_ pencils, like that somehow negates the fact that I needed one.”

 

“Yeahh,” Gwen hums, tapping a manicured finger against her cheek. “He can be a little much sometimes, but he’s getting better at hanging out with the plebs.”

 

Peter _really_ doubted it. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says anyway and stretches out a bit.  “If it isn't too late, I can help out now. I really thought I only had a lunch break scheduled today.”

 

“And you spent it watching hair tutorials in a store room like a creep.”

 

“I was just _watching_ a video! There isn’t anything creepy about watching YouTube videos on your break time. Everyone does it, it’s what our generation _does_ now! There’s _nothing_ weird about it —in fact, _you_ were the one who recommended the channel to me because you can’t help out in the makeup room anymore, why are you being so _edgy_ about me wanting to learn how to do a couple of braids?” Peter rambles, as they both head back to the dance room.

 

“Just the fact that it’s been, like, _four months_ and you still can’t braid to save your life, but you never miss a new upload from the guy. Just _peculiar_ , that’s all,” Gwen states matter-of-factly and Peter hates how observant his best friend is; not really surprising, considering Gwen is a ballet instructor as a _hobby_ because she was currently taking an overload of pre-med courses at Empire State and is an Organic Chemistry tutor at the university on the side, _like it’s hard_?

 

It is _so hard._

 

Peter can barely keep up with the workload at Empire State as it is, and he only has _one job._

 

“How do you even _know_ that?”

 

“Your browsing history.”

 

“Wait, how have you _seen_ _that?!”_

 

“When you let me use your phone to call Harry last week, you had the YouTube app open in the background while _in_ your history because you’re a weirdo who can’t just use the search bar and I happened to see it.”

 

“...Oh.”

 

“Yeah, _oh,_ ” Gwen smirks, leaning against the doorframe that would lead to the neatly lined up little girls who waited for Gwen, all chattering and squealing in the room from being left to their own devices for so long. MJ, another instructor, was absently scrolling through her phone against the corner of the wall, only vaguely paying attention to the rambunctious group of girls she was charged with keeping an eye on. “I don’t particularly blame you—he has some _amazing_ pectorals and that one video you favorited, where he stands up? Even I stared at his obliques and gluteus maximus for a little longer than I’m proud of.”

 

“Please don’t ever say those words to me in that order ever again if you value our friendship.”

 

Gwen bursts into good-natured giggles and she gives a red-faced Peter a gentle side-hug. “But really, it’s cute. You haven’t actually liked someone since _Johnny_ .” She says the name with a wrinkled nose, her lips downturning at the thought of the arrogant football player turned celebrity host. “And even if it’s just some _really_ ripped dad on YouTube, it’s healthy, y’know? You need to be creating healthier relationships and sometimes that means—!”

 

“Alright, Dr. Stacey,” Peter nudges her into the room, gesturing everyone to stand and get in position. “Enough with the psychoanalysis—I’m fine, okay? You shouldn’t worry about me.” He glances over at MJ, who hastily drags her eyes up from where they’d been eying his chest. He sends her a nervous smile, deciding he’s just going to ignore _that_ because MJ is a new instructor and he hasn’t really gotten to know her aside from the occasional exchange and friendly wave. She doesn’t know about his _intimate preferences,_ as Gwen put it once, and, if Peter has his way, she will _never_ know because he just doesn’t feel comfortable enough detailing _that_ part of himself to strangers; has never felt comfortable with it, not since his high school nightmare Flash found out on his own somehow and relentlessly harassed him about it through their senior year. Peter can still hear the taunts some days, still flinches a little when blue-eyed, blonde-haired, men move too quickly around him, and Peter hates himself more for it some days, less other days.

 

“Hey,” Gwen gently squeezes his shoulder, her gaze understanding, but worried. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter blows out a breath, and decides to just go for it. It’s the only way the Parker Luck doesn’t set in, Peter’s discovered, just _going for it._ “Let’s do it. We can squeeze in an hour before their parents come to pick them up.”

 

“You sure you don’t wanna’ do their hair first?”

 

“Let’s not get too carried away now. Can’t braid to save my life, remember?” Peter flashes her a grin, and he tells himself that, no matter what Gwen was suggesting, he _did not_ have a crush on the super ripped dad with the gentlest hands, no matter their burn scars, on YouTube because that would just be a new low for him and he _really_ didn’t need to add that to the list of things he’ll look back on in a few years and groan over.

 

He has enough of those as it is.  

 

* * *

 

“Do you want another drink, Wade?”

 

Wade Wilson, buff dad extraordinaire, is currently lounging on a chair by the sea, the sunset over the waves showing the real delight to his eyes. The last rays of sunshine warm his almost completely exposed skin, his private parts barely hidden by a tiny speedo.

 

“Bring it, baby.” replies Wade. He extends his empty glass to the gorgeous Tom Hardy, who himself is wearing the tiniest speedo that ever sped. Tom takes the drink and refills it, winking at Wade.

“How about a back rub, Wade? You seem tense.” offers Tom.

 

Wade sighs and leans forward, sipping at his straw.

 

“Oh, yessss, this is heaven.”

 

Tom smiles kindly and sits behind Wade. But instead of rubbing his shoulders, he knocks on his bald head.

 

“DAD!”

 

Wade frowns. They didn’t discuss this beforehand. He is up for playing the daddy in the relationship, but he also wants to be treated - Tom knocks harder at Wade’s bald skull, his knuckles hurting Wade’s head.

 

“DAD DAD DAD DAD! WAKE UP!”

 

Wade shakes his head and opens his eyes with great effort. Shit. He isn’t on a beach with Tom Hardy.

 

He was too early picking  Ellie up at her school, so he took a little nap in the car and he ended up sleeping a little bit too long. Ellie is knocking loudly at the car window and screaming at him, a ferocious look on her cute face. _Shiiit I’m in serious trouble. Let’s try the flattery card._

 

“Good afternoon pumpkin-pie of my heart, the most gorgeous princess of the galaxy, you, my Ellie.” he claims while opening the car window.

 

Ellie launches a slight slap to the back of Wade’s bald head.

 

“Dumb-Dad you won’t get away with this. It’s the second time this week.” complains Ellie. “The teacher saw you sleeping in the car so she let me out of school, but maybe one day they will keep me in.” Ellie shivers at that. “They’ll force me to do homework... ”

 

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Wade opens the door and takes Ellie in his arms. After a bit of wriggling from her, he manages to lift her from the ground. He makes her fly in a circle for a while, making her laugh and squeal. “You are a bird! A beautiful swan! No one will keep you inside! You are free! Woooomm!”

 

“DAD! DADDY, PUT ME DOWN!” screams Ellie, making Wade cackle.

 

After more flying and screaming, Wade takes her to an ice-cream shop he knows is both nearby and delicious. He treats Ellie to a three-flavoured-chocolate-chips-on-top ice-cream and takes the same amount but with flavours that don’t match. With every bite he makes a disgusted face and Ellie was thrilled about it. Wade tries his best with Ellie, but he can’t help some screw ups. He would never put his little girl in danger, but he has some issues, and falling asleep in a sun-warmed car and missing the pick up time at school isn’t the worst of it. He hopes he always makes it right, offering cuddles and treats to make Ellie happy.

 

“So, bun-bun,” says Wade, between two mouthfuls of ice-cream and a wince because of the taste, “I received the application form for the sports center.” He puts some flyers on the table. “They have a large choice this year, a new dance class opened.”

 

Ellie is a very dynamic child. However small she is, even after a full day of school and sports activities, she still manages to run everywhere through the house, wanting to play every game available and tiring her daddy to death. He’s tried every parenting book’s advice he could find to entertain her but, he thinks proudly, his little girl just is that energetic.

 

Ellie flips through some of them, half interested. “Dad,” she sighs. She rolls her eyes and wrinkles the flyers. “There are only ballet classes on these flyers.”

 

“Oops, oh my,” says Wade with an innocent shocked face. “What a mistake, how could that happen?”

 

“Daddy,” Ellie laughs and crooks her finger toward Wade. “Come here, I have a secret.”

 

“Ohhh I’m listening.”

 

 _She will tell me I’m the best Dad ever and she loves me a lot, what a cute girl._ Wade bends forward over the table and receives a hard punch in the shoulder.

 

“ELLIE! IT HURTS! I DON’T DESERVE THIS!”

 

“I want to do Jiu Jitsu! And fight! And be strong and fierce!”

 

“But,” whines Wade “You are my daughter, you already are strong and fierce. I can teach you whatever you need.”

 

“Blablabla I was in the army blablabla.” Ellie makes little talking motions with her hands “I want Miss Romanov to teach me Jiu Jitsu.”

 

“Sweetie, please.” begs Wade.

 

Ellie keeps making talking motions with her hands and takes on a very annoying voice to imitate Wade’s.

 

“Boohoo I’m Wade Wilson, I’m an adult and I’m scared of Miss Romanov so I try to deprive my own daughter of Jiu Jitsu lessons because i’m a HUGE COWARD.”

 

Rude. He isn’t a coward, he just knows how to recognize dangers. And this teacher was one. She has a cold, calculating stare. And her handshake. She shook his hand once last year when she introduced herself to some of the parents present at the center, and her grip was so strong Wade had cold sweats every evening for a week just thinking about it. She was gentle with the kids, though, from what he saw. Complimenting them and pushing them to surpass themselves.

 

Wade crosses his arms and leans back on his chair, pouting. “How dare you think that of me. You know I’d do anything for you. I’d go to hell and back.”

 

A cute smile appears on Ellie’s face. But it slowly fades to squinty eyes and a searching look. Shit. He’ll never know how he raised someone as great as this kid. She was so smart. So much smarter than him. She could always read him.

 

“You would do anything for me...” Ellie takes a spoonful of ice cream from Wade’s and then winces. “Disgusting.”

 

“Yeah the ice cream is really awful, bun-bun. Don’t eat mine, I can buy you some more if you want.”

 

“NOT THE ICE CREAM, DAD” yells Ellie. “YOU!”

 

Wade gasps and put his hands over his heart. “ME?”

 

“You want me to join ballet because you think the ballet teacher is cute!”

 

“LALALA NOT LISTENING LALALA,” Wade screams, putting his hands over his ears and chanting to cover his daughter’s voice.

 

He fights the need to cover his head with his hood and his cap, which is currently sitting on the table. But he knows Ellie gets uncomfortable when he hides his scars. His daughter has always known him with them and is not repulsed by them, not like some people can be. She had told him once that when he hides his skin, she feels like he is a gangster and it scares her. Wade has never been a saint and he has definitely done some illegal deeds here and there, but he loves his daughter more than anything and wants her to be happy so he tries to keep his head as uncovered as possible.

 

Still, the thought of the cute ballet teacher makes his need to hide from people’s eyes rise. Wade tried to approach him many times, he had introduction sentences ready, like “Hello, I am Ellie’s father, I would like to know a little bit more about ballet. Do all dancers have fine bodies like you?” It was hopeless anyway. In the past three years that they had been staying in New York, every time Wade had the opportunity to talk to the teacher, he had crumbled before the young man could even lay eyes on Wade’s shape.

 

There was no way a cute man like him, with perfect skin, soft hair and a body toned to perfection, would want to meet his pizza face. Even worse, Wade felt very self-conscious about how sophisticated and pretentious all the teachers seemed to be, sometimes not understanding whatever slang-shit Wade tended to use. So, no, Wade never mustered the courage to introduce himself to Peter Parker, ballet star of the kids courses. He ended up crying multiple times in his car, frustrated by his inability to be as social as the other parents.

 

“Best daddy ever.” Ellie calls, waving a hand in front of her father’s face. “Stop listening to them.”

 

Wade shakes his head and smiles at her. “You can hear them too? Maybe crazy runs in the family.” Ellie laughs and makes a face, by putting both her index fingers in her mouth and pulling. She does a “blblblbl” sound by wagging her tongue at Wade.

 

He gets up and kisses her forehead before taking her in his arms and leaving the ice-cream shop. “Time to go, crazy baby. I see you need some discipline. Going to Miss Romanov’s classes may be a good idea after all.”

 

Ellie screams with delight.

 

* * *

 

“Just hold still, Peter. I won’t hurt you,” Nat says, using a tone that implies exasperation but her eyes are intense, and Peter will have none of that. The last time she looked at him like that, she’d flipped him and twisted him into a pretzel. It’s bad enough that his feet hurt _so badly_ today because he stayed a few hours later than normal last night to help a pair of twin sisters with their choreography, since they were falling behind and their performance was coming up quickly.

 

He should have firmly told her no for the demonstration today for new arrivals.

 

It wouldn’t be the first time he refused, although Nat likes Peter helping with the demo since he is more of a “challenge,” to use her phrasing.

 

“I don’t believe you,” Peter glowers, then dodges a quick swipe from his friend and fellow instructor, who merely graces him with another slow, predatory smile. The new kids that sit cross legged behind him laugh and giggle, whispering to one another about how Peter was going to _lose so badly._ He’s almost offended, as he is everytime he does this, but he doesn’t really blame them. He’s in black spandex tights and a muscle t-shirt, ready to ignore the sharp pain in his toes and ankle as he practices with this incoming class. He’ll only have a few minutes after this demonstration before he has to go and face his own class.

 

He definitely regrets saying yes.

 

“Of course you don’t, you silly spider.” Nat drawls, standing a few feet away.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Peter mutters, not moving a muscle. He can feel his heart race in his throat, a low-grade fight or flight response to the danger that emits from Natasha Romanov. He doesn’t know much about her except that Natasha had taken ballet for _years_ when she lived in Russia _._ She did not like speaking about it although she’d softly praised Peter’s flexibility, grace, and strength when she saw him perform once. But she is just as qualified to instruct ballet as she is to instruct Jiu Jitsu, Kickboxing, and _Krav Maga_. Peter is more than a little wary of her skill sets and stifling silence.

“Why? You skitter around so quickly,” she says, meeting his stare just as intently. “Like a little spider, you somehow manage to crawl all over the place when I try to catch you.”

 

“For good reason, you’re... _weirdly fast,_ ” Peter gulps, and takes a step back when she takes  a step forward. “And you don’t see _anything_ wrong with the fact that I can’t actually fight you because I don’t _know_ Jiu Jitsu. At all. Like, I saw a YouTube video once. Didn’t help. 2/10, would not recommend.”

 

“Enough chatter. Dance,” she smirks, and Peter backflips away from her lunging grapple.

 

“I just wanna’ let everyone in this room know that I am not qualified to do Jiu Jitsu! This is me just running aw-AY! Totally unfair!” Peter squeaks, ducking and rolling. Nat is relentless, as she always is when she does anything, and Peter can only dodge and bend his way out of her grasp for so long before one feint and an outstretched foot has him losing his balance. He falls on his side and rolls and nearly manages to escape but Nat is on his back immediately, placing him in a chokehold, and Peter slams his foot on the floor hard, trying to find balance but slipping every time Nat tightened her hold and jerked him around.

 

He can hear the kids rioting.

 

God, his feet _hurt._

 

“Sleep, little spider,” Nat grins viciously near his ear, and Peter scowls. He’s always been competitive and Nat never failed to bring it out of him, even with a crowd.

 

“Like hell...nap-time isn’t until _four,_ ” Peter manages a grin and, using every bit of core-strength he has, flips her over until he’s above her, and he stills for a split second when he realizes he has no idea what he’s supposed to do now that he has the advantage. Nat is on him again in the next second, a knowing grin on her face. “No fair! I don’t know what to do once I get there!” Peter whines, and chokes when she squeezes harder.

 

“Fight back!”

 

“Ergh, kinda’ hard to do with your arm around my neck like that. Why don’t you lemme’ go and I’ll tell you where I stashed the Raid bombs, Widow,” Peter wheezes out, and he can hear someone bark out a laugh at it. At least someone thought his spider joke was funny. If Nat is going to make fun of his running away by comparing him to a puny little spider, he can at least prod fun at her Black Widow-like intensity and _lethalness._

 

Nat tightens her hold at that.

 

“Okay. Okay, no, nope, no. No, no, no,” Peter strangles out, slamming a hand on the mat repeatedly. “Out, I tap out! Red, red! PINEAPPLE! IT’S UNDER THE COUCH!”

 

Nat snorts and lets him go. Peter rolls over and breathes in deeply, rubbing his neck and crawling away. “Oww,” he whines, as Natasha stands up fluidly. He flops over instead, curling into himself a little. “ _Owww,_ ” he groans louder. “Hit a nerve, Nat? Because you definitely hit at least 6 of mine.”

 

“Of course not,” she says, and she sounds amused but she _always_ sounds amused when it comes to him. “Did you all enjoy this demonstration?” She addresses the crowd, and the kids riot at that. Peter finally sits up, cracking his back. Nat crosses her hands behind her back, facing the rows of kids who stare up at her in fascination. “Good. Because I would like you all to know that Peter is the only one here able to keep up with me like this.”

 

Peter notices some kids look at him skeptically and he waves back awkwardly.

 

“Ballet is its own deadly sport, and I will not tolerate anyone belittling or speaking ill of it. The fundamentals of pain tolerance, grace, balance, and, most importantly, raw strength can be found in the art of ballet. In fact, I would require you all to take a few sessions of ballet first before joining my curriculum if management hadn’t explicitly told me no, because they are _narrow-minded and_ _—_ _!_ ”

 

“— _Great_ people and absolutely would never do anything to anger any of the instructors or dictate what they can or cannot teach,” Peter loudly interrupts, managing to stand up. He winces when his feet twinge and he shakes it off, eyes cutting over to the body that jerked forward suddenly at his wince, as if to help, and he can’t help but to let his eyes linger on the man once he does.

 

“Oh,” he mumbles, the sound drowned out by the rowdy group of kids a few feet away, but he think the man heard him anyway because he tenses a little, retreating a little more.

 

Peter is _a little_ mad he hadn't noticed him before.

 

The man is difficult not to notice, being as _big_ as he was.

 

He’s a brutish kind of man, all wide shoulders and thick cords of muscle hidden under a burgundy hoodie a size too small for his frame. His hands are shoved in his pockets but, when he nervously brings them out, they’re covered by gloves. It's then that Peter notices his hood is drawn up tight, and he keeps his head lowered to hide his face, as if shy. Peter is still too distracted by his bulging biceps to notice that he’s being watched by him just as intensely.

 

Peter’s always been _weak_ for biceps.

 

And big men who _look so cute when they’re shy_ —

 

“Right, Peter. The wonderful management,” Nat waves him off with a huff, gazing at each and every wide-eyed face in the crowd. Peter glances back at Nat for a second, unable to help the way his eyes are drawn back to the man in the hoodie. “I was a ballet dancer for ten years before I moved onto other styles of dominance.”

 

“Ballet isn’t about dominance,” Peter points out.

 

“I’ve watched you absolutely crush your competition when no one asked you to.”

 

Peter slowly lowers his hand. “That was an accident. She just...got in my way, I didn't mean to steal her thunder,” and he looks up and away in that way Nat knows he does when he fibs.

 

“Hm,” Nat says, but doesn’t comment on it. “Peter may not know this particular dance, but his mastery over ballet is enough to keep me on my toes and always alert. He is strong enough to throw me off, and he is flexible enough to slip through my grasp if I am not constantly vigilant. _Never_ underestimate an opponent, and respect your opponent by giving them the benefit of the doubt. This topic will be covered….” Natasha goes on with her usual spiel as Peter wiggles his achy toes against the mat for a second. He quietly moves over towards the far-end wall as Nat picks volunteers for some of the moves she tried against him.

 

The kids are absolutely riveted so they don’t notice.

 

Peter scoots his knees up and reaches down to gently massage his ankles. He's wearing thick socks, which hide the slight deformity of his feet from years of hard foot training. He's always been self-conscious about them, and he will rarely be seen without socks or shoes lest someone notice his ugly bent toes and rigid foot, from years of learning how to stand on one's tips, balance and hold it for minutes or _hours._ Natasha would say to own up to the disfigurement, borne from years of training and pain, and Gwen would merely turn her nose up to it and ignore everyone’s wide eyes. But Peter has always been self-conscious about _everything_ , ever since he can remember.

 

He’s lucky to have had Gwen there to always lift his chin up and protect him from whispered sneers and cruel snickering, like the older sister he never got to have.

 

“Hurt your feet, honey?”

 

Peter snaps his head up and his eyes widen at the man in the burgundy hoodie. Although he is still hunched over, Peter can see why he had been ducking his head earlier: his face is a canvas of burnt skin and deep creases, but kind, bright blue eyes blink down at him. It’s so jarring, such kind eyes set in a face made up of knotted flesh and deep grooves. The endearment doesn't go over his head, but he can't quite focus on it yet. His eyes dart across his face for a second too long and the man lowers it even more somehow, shoulders hunching up and drawing away suddenly, and Peter feels bad for it.

 

He’s just surprised, not disgusted.

 

But it explains the hoodie and gloves.

 

“I've been practicing every day for hours with my class,” Peter speaks up hastily, before he leaves. Peter leans forward, smiling kindly. “I haven't rested them, so they hurt a lot right now. We can't all be like Gwen, the lead, who has a boyfriend to rub her feet after a long dance session.”

 

“That’s blondie, right?”

 

Peter laughs. “Yeah, that’s her. Don’t let her hear you call her that, though. She’s weirdly aware she’s blonde and likes to beat down stereotypes with wisecracks and, sometimes, chairs.”

 

The man grins, and his teeth are blinding white like something out of a Colgate commercial. Peter is dazed by them—how the hell can someone get their teeth that _white?_ _—_ “Now that’s a story I’d like to hear someday! I bet she can kick all of our asses to next week—except Black Widow over there,” he jokes, and Peter quirks his lip up at that.

 

“Yeah, no, she’d eat us all alive before lunch and we wouldn’t even be made about it. Nice to know that nickname caught onto the outside world, maybe that’s why she’s been extra prickly with me. Now if I can only get management to start calling her that, too...” Peter dryly says, absently rubbing his ankles as Nat carefully flips a kid over on his back and the kid looks up at her like he found God. Amazing, how Nat can inspire that type of loyalty on the first try. Usually Peter has to go through a week of skeptical frowns and suspicions before they trust that he knows what he’s doing and _no_ , just because he’s a man doesn’t mean he can’t do the splits or stand on his toes like Gwen can. “But I’m just kidding when I say that. She’s really good with kids, even if she’s not so warm with others at first—Um, oh, _wow_ , okay, you’re super close and that’s kinda freaky because I didn’t hear you at all,” Peter rambles, blinking into wide and mischievous blue eyes that are suddenly very close to him.

 

 _They’re darker blue around the pupil,_ Peter notices distractedly.  

 

“Ya’ know, I dunno’ what ya’ policy is on random strangers giving you foot massages, but _I’ll have you know!_ That in the good old land of leaves and maple, I used to work in a nail salon and I was named _Best Pedicure Associate_ three weeks running!”

 

“ _Only_ three weeks?” Peter can’t help but snark, and wants to smack himself. This is the closest to flirting he’s gotten since Johnny and he’s already screwing it up.

 

“Yeah, I quit when they made me massage I’d-Like-to-Speak-to-the-Manager-Karen and she  kicked my face when she _saw_ my face. Like, rude, I know I ain’t winnin’ any beauty competitions except maybe Miss Wyoming in 2040, but she didn’t have’ta _kick my face_ for it!”

 

“What? No way, everyone knows Wyoming doesn’t exist, don’t be mean,” Peter jokes, and the man cackles and grins wider, if possible. Peter’s shoulders relax and he leans in a little closer. “But that was extremely rude of her. Your face is fine,” he adds kindly.

 

“Wow, I knew you were flexible, but that’s some serious stretching you’re doing there.”

 

Peter barks out a laugh, covering his face with his hand to hide his hot cheeks. Why is he even blushing? It doesn’t make sense, he didn’t say anything worth flushing over, and now his face is reddening _more_ because he’s thinking about it so much _and_ —!

 

“Here! I’ll show you!” The man chirps, and reaches over to grab his foot.

 

“I...yeah, just, wait, _don’t take off my socks!”_ Peter gasps, paling in horror, and only startles a little when the man doesn’t move to take off his socks at all, just digs his thumbs into the arch of his foot before he can pull away. “Oh...Oh my, _God_ . How are you doing that?” He whispers, immediately relaxing as the man casually gives him one of the _best_ foot rubs he’s ever had, and he frequently goes to the salon with Gwen under the pretense of “keeping her company” and Gwen goes to those _really nice_ salons now that Harry foots the bill for each session, including his. “Why only three weeks, you should have received it every single week. A trophy, too, because you’re really good.”

 

“Would be better than a shitty sheet of copy paper, that’s for sure. I was the reason they even had regulars to begin with, my nail painting skills are on _fleek_ ,” he huffs, kneeling now, and Peter wants to lay on his back and let this man just rub away all the knots and tension in his foot with his magic fingers. “Jeez, honey, you’re all knotted up, what the hell do you do to your feet?”

 

“Barefoot training. Lot’s of jumping and lifting. Hurts,” Peter groans when the man does something _magical,_ he doesn’t know, it hurt but it was a _good hurt._

 

“Sounds like future arthritis.”

 

“Please don’t remind me of how I’ve irrevocably ruined my feet before the age of 28,” Peter grumbles, then hisses and sighs when he gently rolls his toes back. “Ohhh, my god, do that again, I’ll pay you to please do it again.”

 

“No pay necessary, baby, it’s enough payment that I’m able to touch your feet. Wait, that sounded like I’ve got a foot fetish. I don't. I think. Nope, still good.”

 

“I’m sorry, did you just look at your _crotch?_ ”

 

“I had to make sure! He has a mind of his own,” he says defensively, and Peter bursts into a laugh yet _again_ as the man moves onto his other foot.

 

“That’s gross.”

 

“That doesn’t make it any less true! Like, just the other day, I was making my little girl breakfast for dinner, and I was grabbing the flour and, _bang,_ I was like, ‘what is it boy? What is it?’ It turns out I nearly forgot to turn off the oven. _My dick can tell danger,_ ” he whispers conspiratorially and Peter nudges his foot back in his hand a little as he sniggers. “It’s true. It’s like in Mean Girls—I knew watching that movie 34 times was a good idea.”

 

“Your wife is so lucky you can give these foot massages or else you’d be impossible to live with,” Peter groans when he digs his thumb into the arch again.

 

“HA! Don’t have one of those. Probably for the best—the last person who tried to wife me up ended up realizing their mistake about a year later and ran away with Count Dracula about two days after that. No, seriously, his name is _Dracula_ , look him up, he’s on Twitter, they think I don’t know,” the man cackles.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s horrible, I didn’t mean to bring it up,” Peter frowns, sitting up a bit to send him a guilty look.

 

“Eh, don’t sweat it, my baby girl didn’t like her anyway. Her boobs were too big or something. She’s right, I’m an ass man, any ass, _all asses_ , they’re all great, I should just listen to my kid more often, she knows me better than I know me sometimes,” he babbles happily, and Peter feels hope well up in his throat because that sounded like _maybe_ he wasn’t totally straight, like Peter always assumes when meeting a new guy. Better to assume than embarrass himself, he likes to think. “Pretty sure she was also the one who put the laxatives in my ex-boo’s milk in the mornings and mixed acrylic paint in her shampoo bottle that one time,” the man pauses, squinting. “Actually, I’m pretty sure _that’s_ the real reason she left, my kid is a fucking nightmare when she hates someone. Like me, but less bloody. But if my baby girl doesn’t approve, she wasn’t gonna last anyway, gotta’ keep my baby happy! She’s my number one priority,” he beams.

 

Peter’s lips quirk up. “Sounds dangerous,” he smirks, and the man’s fingers squeeze his foot. Peter bites his lip, goes for it: “What’s your daughter’s name—?”

 

“PETER BENJAMIN!”

 

Peter jumps up, jerking his foot out of the man’s hand and snapping his head over to Gwen, who's looking between them critically.

 

“I didn’t mean to!” Peter strangles out, then darts his eyes over to the man, whose standing up now. “I mean—well, he just—sorry? I know there’s rules about this, but—”

 

“You’re late for rehearsal! Wrap it up!” Gwen says instead, clapping her hand a few times. She turns and leaves without another comment, and Peter hastily stands, wiggling his toes a bit.

 

“Oh, they’re a little better,” Peter whispers, then looks up at the large, looming, figure who has the _gentlest hands,_ and beams. “Thanks so much, you really didn’t need to do this, but I appreciate it! I should be able to make it through this rehearsal with minimal injuries now.”

 

“No problem, honey, gotta’ keep you in good shape—whose ass am I gonna’ admire if you’re out of commission because of some janky ankles?”

 

“Did you just call my ankles _janky_ ?” Peter gasps, fighting down a grin when the man raises his hands exaggeratedly. His hood is hiding his eyes now from how hard he pulled it down his face when Gwen interrupted; Peter wants to push it back, look at his face a little longer. “I’ll have you know, my ankles are _amazing,_ and I can probably break your femur in two different places with the right pressure.”

 

“Well, clearly. See?” He nods down below his waist and says, so seriously,  “ _Danger,_ ” and Peter shoves his shoulder in a snort of laughter and walks away, waving him off when he crows out something about hating to see him leave, but loving to watch him walk away, _because he’s a ridiculous man_ and wow, Peter really needs to get out more if this one encounter with a total stranger who gives amazing foot rubs has him all fuzzy and bright.

 

“Y’know,” Gwen breathes when Peter catches her later that evening, her back bent over his shoulder in an elegant arch. “Men who rub other men’s feet are keepers.”

 

“I will drop you.”

 

“Not if I drop you first!” She gleefully shouts, and she’s out of his arms again and gliding across the room, and if Peter’s eyes keep glancing out the single salon floor-to-ceiling glass wall in hopes of catching sight of that hulking, gentle man, well, Gwen can’t prove it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys ! The second chapter is go !!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy the rest of this fic. We had a good time planning it and writing it ;)   
> I want to thank a LOT my co-author [Scarlett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlett_starlett) and our beta-reader Lanen for putting up with my bad english sentences. 
> 
> Love you folks, have fun !

“Did you seen the fight Dad??” screams Ellie, very excited about it apparently. “Miss Romanov just took him and with her leg she BOOM and then her elbow CRASH!” Ellie dives into the couch cushions, murdering them in rhythm with her yelling. “Your poor ballet teacher didn’t stand a chance!” She screams at Wade’s face. “She used her thighs and crushed him like THAT!” Another cushions dies under her good care. 

Wade smiles. He adores it when Ellie gets passionate and excited and passionate about a subject. She really is the sweetest girl. She is so fierce! And strong! Like her dad. He almost wipes a tear from his eye. Until he receives a cushion in the face.

“Hey little girl! First Peter Parker isn’t my ballet teacher, he is his own man.” Wade scowls. “And second, dontcha ruin my makeup.” 

It had taken him an hour to do it. First, applying the foundation, then some sparkles, then don’t mess up the liner and eye shadow, and the final touch, a heavy dose of powder. He’s never really managed to completely hide the scars, even with layers and layers of makeup but, by playing around with blush and contouring, he somewhat managed to blend them in. 

“Sorry Dad!” Ellie apologises, looking sorry for about half a second before sticking her tongue out at Wade. “We went to the store because you said we’d buy stuff for me and you ended up buying only a bunch of stuff for yourself!”

Wade gasps, offended. He puts a hand in front of his mouth and exaggerates a shocked face. “My OWN daughter accusing me of being a fashion victim. How DARE you.”

Ellie pouts. “We said we’d do a video too. It’s the weekend we have time.”

“Sure thing my pretty lady.” Wade scoots her up off the couch and kisses her loudly on the cheek, leaving a mix of red lipstick and powder on Ellie’s face. “I have a surprise for you. Come in the bathroom.”

“Gross.” Ellie mumbles, but follows him anyway.

Wade leads the way, twirling his red velvet dress as he goes. It was an old one but one of his favourites. A turtleneck dress that covers his whole body, from his wrists to ankles, just short enough to show his lovely shoes, and fitted enough to show off his muscular torso and beautiful hips. Once In the bathroom, he sits Ellie on her usual chair. 

She is still pouting a bit and clearly wondering what they were going to do for that day’s vid, but Wade tells her to be patient while he adjusts the video. 

“It’s a surprise, sweetie, you’re gonna looove it.”

Wade puts the camera at a different angle, higher than it usually is, and in front of Ellie, not the mirror for once. He puts some white rubber gloves on his hands while checking if the equipment is well set. He wants to paint her nails today, not do her hair, so Ellie’s hands needs to be visible. 

As for himself, he tries not to show his skin on the videos, sometimes a little bit of it shows, but not enough to make people react to it. That’s why he tries to avoid showing his face. Today, he’ll probably have to zoom in on Ellie’s nails so his skin would be really exposed and he’d rather avoid that. Ellie loves their youtube channel and takes great pride in every good comment her father gets on it. He tries to delete the mean ones talking about him and his skin before she can see them. He doesn’t mind much but it would hurt Ellie a lot and he doesn't want that. She is not allowed to go on youtube unsupervised, but with kids these days you never know. Besides, his perfect daughter is just so smart so it’s better to be prepared.

“Are you ready, bun-bun?” He asks her.

Ellie claps her hands, excited. “Sure thing Daddy, bring it on!”

Grinning, Wade turns on the camera. “Good afternoon, guys, gals and non binary pals!” He exclaims. Then he takes a showman’s voice to announce “In this video I will show you something wonderful. A new trick you have never seen me perform before. With a talent that will blow your mind and make you insecure for the rest of your lives!”

Ellie is bouncing excitedly and drumming her hands on her thighs like they do in the circus before an artist performs a dangerous trick. 

“BEHOLD!” Shouts Wade. “The AMAZING!” He takes a bag from behind his back and opens it in front of the camera. “NAIL ART SESSION!”

“What! DAD!” Ellie screams delighted. She claps her hands and bounces ever faster. “What colors do you have? You bought this at the store today? Without telling me?”

“I have every color and I love surprising my perfect little girl.” Wades smiles. He has been waiting to do this, because Ellie was still a little kid and he didn’t wanted to push any makeup or feminine attire on her until she was old enough to choose herself. But she always wanted to pitch in when he was putting it on himself and she had been begging for it for a long time. Nail polish technically counts as makeup but not so much, so he eventually compromised and decided that he would let her keep it for the weekend but remove it before she went back to school. Not showing off at school would prevent a load of young kids jumping on him when he went to pick her up, all asking for a nail polish session with him. And it would also prevent the school being angry because Ellie doesn’t respect the school’s dress code. 

Wade starts removing the contents of the bags. Ellie is trying to help but she’s mostly just throwing nail polish bottles everywhere, which makes Wade giggle. “Slow down sweetie. They’re not alive. They are not gonna run away on their tiny bottle legs and escape.”

“I want sparkles!” Ellie exclaims. “And purple! And ice cream cones!” 

“Anything for you.” Replies Wade. He starts to align the nail polish bottles he’s going to need while Ellie makes her requests. “And a rainbow?” He offers.

“A rainbow on the thumbs, then purple, then an unicorn, then red, then an ice cream cone.”

Wade slaps his palms on his thighs, rubbing the velvet for a second then chooses the first polish. “Well sweetheart I’m in for a challenge. With those tiny fingers of yours, how is everything gonna fit?”

“I know you can do it Daddy.” Says Ellie. Then changing her face to a menacing scowl, she adds. “If you don’t, I’m gonna smother you with a pillow so badly it’ll ruin your make-up and you’ll end up looking like a failed clown.”

“Wow. Savage. That’s my daughter, people!” 

Wade does his best to obey his daughter’s wishes. He leans over Ellie’s hand and tries to draw on her little nails. There are many difficulties with this, first, he has to do so while keeping her hands in the camera’s angle while not showing his face - he thinks the lower part of his face can be seen once or twice but he’s got enough makeup that people won’t notice much - and second Ellie is not a placid kid, keeping her in place is a challenge in itself.

“The ice cream is smudged Daddy…” Ellie whines, shaking her hand in front of the camera, as if to show her misery to the world.

“If you hadn’t tried to pick your nose while the nail polish was still drying then it wouldn’t have happened, you disgusting little goblin.”

Ellie shrieks and mocks slapping him on the shoulder for revenge. “I can’t believe it! You’re calling me a goblin when your EARS are so big they block out the sun.”

“Baby girl! I’m so wounded!” Gasps Wade. He still manages to catch Ellie’s wrists, not wanting her to damage her nails even more, especially when he was almost done. “If I have big ears, all the better to hear you with…” He says with a scary scowl. 

“Daddy NO! You know I’m scared of that story. I don’t want to sleep with the light on anymore, I’m a big girl now!”

“Aooooo!” Wade howls like a wolf.

“If you keep it up I will tell the ballet teacher that you are in love with him and you want his babies!” Ellie says, pretty smug.

“Bun-bun! You wouldn’t dare!” Wade clutches his heart. Oh, the betrayal. “Besides I’m not in love with him I just think he’s cute!” 

Ellie makes blabbing motions with her hands. Which attracts her eyes to her nails. 

“DADDY! It’s beautiful! Are you done?” She exclaims.

Wade smiles warmly. Seeing her baby girl so happy always made his heart warm. “Sure thing sweeties.”

“It is so beautiful! You’re the best!” Ellie screams, waving her hands all over the camera. “It’s the best! You’re the best Dad! Oh no.. Oh Dad no why are you crying?”

Wade engulfs his tiny daughter in his big arms. She is the cutest thing he has ever laid eyes upon and she just brings him so much joy. “I love you so much my baby girl.” 

They cut the camera after that, upload the video and eat ice-cream on the couch. They never cut or edit the videos after shooting them, they both are too lazy to do it, and they’re doing the videos for fun, so it shouldn’t be work anyway.

“You smudged the nail art, Dad.” Sighs Ellie. 

Wade shrugs. “You disfigured my makeup so we’re even.”

It takes a lot of screaming and even some tears the next evening when he has to remove the nail polish before Ellie goes to school but Wade thinks it’s for the best. He doesn’t want to be called to the principal’s office - again.

* * *

It’s a few days later, after he picks Ellie up at school and they are in the caron their way to Jujitsu, when Wade spots Peter Benjamin walking down the street, probably going to the same place Wade and Ellie were going. Wade had caught Peter’s name after the last class, when another ballet teacher had called the young man by name in rebuke. 

At the next stoplight, Wade has an intense minute of silent freak out. He wants, more than anything, to stop and offer a ride to Peter Benjamin. But there are so many problems stopping him from doing so. He is with Ellie, which means no flirting while his baby girl is around. It also means that he is wearing a light white shirt, and that he cannot put his hoodie on without making her at least a little bit sad.   
Peter had been nice about the scars the last time they met, but Wade had been wearing his hood up and gloves. Wade looks down at his scarred hands gripping the steering wheel and sighs. Well, not today. 

“Dad, look, your lover is there.” Points out Ellie, grabbing onto Wade’s shirt and pulling multiple times. “Daddy, look.”

“I can’t look sweetheart, I’m driving.” Wade replies blankly. “And he is not my lover. He is a teacher at your sports center.” 

“You’re not driving, we’ve stopped.” Ellie pouts for two seconds, looking at her Dad through squinting eyes. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad.” Replies Wade. “I’m focused, I’m driving.”

“Aren’t you gonna offer him a ride?” Asks Ellie.

“Your sport stuff is on the backseat, sweetie.” 

Ellie gasps, shocked. “No they’re not. Oh my god Daddy, you’re so rude. You’ll let him walk in the heat when we have air conditioning just because you’re a coward.”

“AM NOT!” Wade screams. 

Oh fuuuck. The window was open and Peter, who was really close by now, heard it and turned his head. Wade does then the only sane thing to do and tries to shrink himself in the car to hide. He thinks it works pretty fine, until he hears Peter Benjamin talking next to him. Wade screams and jumps out of his skin, scarring both Ellie and Peter. 

“Woah, excuse me, are you okay? Didn’t mean to scare you.” Says Peter, retreating a bit.

“Hello, Mr Parker!” Giggles Ellie. “I am going to Miss Romanov’s class! Forgive my Dad, he’s a coward.”

Wade hides behind both his hands and does not speak.

Peter is a bit taken aback. “Hum… Well.. Okay… Are you one of Miss Romanov’s student?” Ellie nods. “Excuse me for asking this but you look familiar, are you on youtube?”

“I am Ellie!” She shouts, excited. “And my daddy is Wade! Wade Wilson! His number is seven-five-four then three-zero-one-zero. Get it ?”

Peter is taken aback by the answer and it seems he doesn’t know how to answer. “Nice to see you, Ellie. And hello to your father. Mr Wilson?” Ellie nods again. Wade tries to answer but only manages a series of whimpers, still hidden behind his hands. Peter looks a bit mortified and is blushing slightly. “Okay, well. Keep up the good work, Ellie. Bye Mr Wilson!”

Peter starts walking again, and even though the light has turned green, Wade doesn’t start the car. Ellie slaps the back of his bald head. “You didn’t raise me to be rude like that. I am disappointed in you old man.”

“WAIT” Yelps Wade. Or tries to. He yelps something, at least. Peter turns around, surprised. 

“My dad wants to give you a ride to the school, Mr Parker.” Chimes in Ellie. 

Wade lets go of his face to open the back door of the car, dropping his head as low as he can. Peter is still hesitant, but after a few seconds, and multiple cars honking from behind Wade’s car, Peter gets inside. Once he’s sitting in the back seat, it’s easier for Wade. He glances at Peter in the rearview mirror and their eyes meet. The guy is just so cute.  
When he starts driving, Ellie taps him on the shoulder. “Good going, dad.”

The conversation goes back and forth between Peter and Ellie during the five minute drive that is needed to reach the sports center. Ellie shares some of the candies Wade always has stacked up in the car. Peter takes some and thanks Wade. Wade replies with a wink and a smile in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t talk much. He’s scared he’s gonna burst if he opens his mouth and he doesn't want Ellie to see it.

When they reach the center parking lot, Ellie grabs her bag at her feet, kisses Wade on the cheek and leaves the car, running to get into the center. With much disappointment, Wade notices Peter grabbing his bag as well and opening the back door. He was hoping that with Ellie gone they could have made some small talk. At the very least he had wanted to apologize. Or explain. Something.

“Hey Mister Magic Fingers!” Peter calls, leaning on Wade’s window with a cheeky grin. 

Wade smirks and can’t help but reply “Hey Mister Bubble Butt.”

“I didn’t know you were Ellie’s father.” Says Peter. “I have seen many of her videos. I should have guessed it was you, given how you are talented on the vids and how talented you were at massaging me.”

“I told you my baby girl was my number one priority. She’s the best girl in the world!” 

Peter laughs. “I have seen that.”

Wade is confused by that. He was just driving his kid to her sport lesson, he hadn’t even walked her inside while holding her hand, like he usually insists on, even if Ellie often thinks it’s cheesy. She’s growing up so fast. Soon she won’t accept his hugs and kisses anymore. Maybe she will start wear black nail polish and slam her bedroom door. “Huh, seen what?” He eventually asks.

Peter blushes and doesn’t answer Wade. He looks at his feet, then at Wade again. Then he slips a piece of paper through the open window into Wade’s hands. “My name is Peter. Call me and let’s have a drink sometime, you’ll be able to tell me all about your kid and maybe some of your other priorities?” 

He waits a few seconds, half a smile on his face, but Wade is too shocked to answer right away so Peter just waves and leaves with a last “Call me!” thrown over his shoulder.

* * *

“It was him—the dad from the YouTube videos! It was really him! I thought his daughter looked familiar, but I didn’t know until he told me and-and I _can’t believe I gave him my phone number_ ,” Peter wheezes as he sits curled into a corner in the store room, a cup of ice cream in his hand. Gwen is sitting cross-legged on a table in front of him, trying not to drip any of her ice cream on her shirt. She _knew_ she should have taken her car instead of walking to the ice cream shop. “I mean—what—why, _why_ would I do that! That isn’t like me! This could go horribly wrong—Oh, my God! What if he doesn’t call me?! How am I going to look at him when he comes to pick her up?!” 

“What are you angsting about? This is the best thing that could’ve happened! He seems really nice and he obviously cares about his daughter, that’s always a good sign!” Gwen cheerfully says. “Besides, you’ve done worse. You walked up to Johnny and told him he should meet you at that one Italian bakery, remember? You _basically_ made plans for him. Honestly, just giving him your number was kind of tame for you. You take command a lot for someone who called me yesterday yelling about which type of jam they should buy.”

“The grocery store was closing, I had to make an informed choice!” Peter mutters, stirring his spoon in the melting ice cream. It looked like how he felt so he put it down beside him and stretched out his legs. “I don’t know...maybe I should have waited. Do you think I went too fast? I just found out who he is like...a day ago.”

“Peter, this guy _literally rubbed_ your feet before you even knew who he was and you couldn’t stop talking about him then. I think you’re moving a little too slow,” Gwen snorts, giving up on the spoon and just drizzling the melted ice cream into her mouth directly from the cup. “Even if he doesn’t call you, he could just be nervous that a really cute ballet instructor just hit on him, y’know? I know the guy. He’s really shy, but he opens more once you get to know him. He waits outside the studio a lot and I never questioned why, _lots_ of people wait outside our studio since they can watch us practice, except now I know he was totally there to _ogle your ass_! Didn’t he comment on your ass?”

“ _He did_ ,” Peter wheezes out again, and Gwen happily claps her hands. 

“Don’t get yourself bent all out of shape, Peter, you’re a catch!” Gwen reassures. “I’m sure he likes you—I mean, why else would he touch your feet?”

“Fetishism?”

“He told you he didn’t have one, though?”

“People _lie, Gwen_!” Peter groans, rubbing his face. “You’re the one who's always telling me to be more careful about who I help and who I talk to!” 

“Yeah, but I _know_ this guy, he isn’t a creep!” Gwen insists. Peter eyes her warily.

“You said you just know him from standing outside our studio. What makes him so different than all the other people who stand outside our studio?” 

“He…” Gwen fumbles for a moment, placing her cup beside her on the table. “Y’know that guy that kept swinging by to talk to me? He’d wait outside the studio for me and ask me really redundant questions about our program?”

“Yeah, is he coming around again?” Peter asks, concerned. “I thought he stopped after you told him you’d report him for harassment?”

 

“Not...exactly?” Gwen winces when Peter gasps and, before he can argue, she rushes out: “I didn’t tell you the entire story because it was kind of embarrassing? Wade chased him off.” Gwen mumbles, upset but relieved. Peter’s face smooths out into one of curiosity. “After I told him I would report him for harassment if he continued that behavior, he went off on me, and started to call me names in front of some of the kid’s parents, about how the customer service was so bad and...it was just a huge mess! You were still in the studio helping some of the girls so I couldn’t call you but...Wade was there. He stood up for me and, well, I actually don’t know what he did to the guy. He dragged him outside and I never saw him again,” Gwen shrugs while Peter stares, a little disbelievingly. 

“Wade dragged him outside?”

“Yep.”

“And you didn’t ask him what happened?”

“Nope.”

“...And you’re okay with that?”

“Aren’t you?” Gwen says. “He never came back again and he didn’t file a complaint or anything. He just disappeared.”

“Huh,” Peter frowns, sitting back. He looked curious again. “Wade was there that day. I didn’t see him…”

“He always leaves before you come out, like he’s got some sort of secret sense,” Gwen smiles a little. “I’ve talked to him whenever I see him, since I’m always out before you, and he seems really nice. He lurks, yeah, but he doesn’t ask creepy questions and, most times, he’s actually there for his daughter. Looks more like he hangs out by the studio for something to do.” Gwen’s smile widens mischievously. “Specifically, _that ass_!” 

“Leave my ass out of this, it’s been through enough,” Peter sighs, swirling his spoon in his ice cream. Gwen eyes him doubtfully. “Well, at least you approve of this guy. You never approve of the guys I date,” Peter adds.

“Because they’re all horrible people and you have no taste or self-preservation.” 

“Johnny just had a strong personality…”

“Oh, so that's what we're calling it now, huh? All the guys you dated just had a 'STRONG PERSONALITY,’ right?” Gwen asks, judgingly. 

“Okay, so Johnny turned out to be a huge asshole. But Eddie wasn’t that bad?” Peter winces, already regretting that sentence because he read those really possessive, _really threatening_ , messages he sent out to all his close friends.

Gwen raises her brows disbelievingly. “IN FRONT OF YOU. I still have those threatening texts screenshotted just in case he comes back, the creep.”

Peter puffs his cheeks out and sulks, wanting another cup of ice cream. Fine. He may have bad taste in men, bad taste in _most things_ pertaining to relationships or friendships, really, but it looked like this time he might actually have a chance and it may actually work out to be something nice. That is, if Wade sent him or a text or called him, which he hasn’t, even though it’d already been a few hours. His phone remains a silent, daunting, thing beside him and he thinks he might leave out the back way these next few days until he can swallow his pride enough to face Wade again after basically hitting on him. 

“...Oh, God, what if he doesn’t call me back?” Peter moans. “Why did I do that! Just end me. I hate dating, I’m never doing this again!”

“Not this again,” Gwen rolls her eyes, and begins eying Peter’s melting ice cream as he goes back to spilling his woes.

* * *

“Oh, my god, what do I do now? Do I call him or text him? I should have done it immediately!” Wade wails, clutching the sheet of paper with Peter's _number scrawled_ on in his cute doctor handwriting. “Then I could have just gotten it out of my system when he ignored it and inevitably told me to fuck off. But now there's... _expectations_.” 

“I believe in you, daddy!” Ellie chirps, more in absent interest than anything else. She doesn't know why her dad is being such a drama queen about a phone number. _She_ had her teacher’s phone number and she was super cool so she didn't understand why her dad couldn't just call the ballet instructor and get it over with. “Just talk to him, he's really nice!” 

“No! No, no! No talk,” Wade insists. “ _Only befriend_!!”

Ellie giggles. “I know that meme!!”

“I know you do, baby.” Wade beams. Then he goes back to sweating over the piece of paper that pretty much determined his future at this point in his life. “Okay. I can just send him a text. People do that. They text. I text. I text all the time, even when I don’t have to. _Especially_ when I don’t have to.”

Ellie sticks her tongue out as she tilts her head in front of the mirror, admiring her new hairstyle. She and her dad had just finished another YouTube video and were currently uploading it. It would take a while, but Ellie liked when the videos finished since that meant they could film another. Sometimes, her dad even let her do two videos at a time which meant she could try out _two different hair styles_ in a day and that always made her entire week. The best were when they did it in the morning and another in the evening, even if Ellie had to shake off her do to sleep. 

Sometimes she convinced her dad to let her keep it overnight, even if her hair became a mess by morning. 

“I look like a princess,” Ellie determines after another moment of critiquing her hair. “I saw a princess with hair like this in my book, daddy, but she had super pink stripes in her hair, too. Can I get pink stripes in my hair?”

“Sure, baby,” Wade says absently, texting something on his phone. He scowls and deletes it and starts over. This happens a few times, Ellie asking more and more outlandish questions until finally—

“Can I have _twelve ferrets_ and two pitbulls so they can protect me when I go to school?”

Wade finally looks up from staring fearfully at his phone, offended. “Absolutely not! Ferrets smell.”

“Do not!”

“Do, too!” 

“DO NOT!”

“DO, TOO!” 

“Not!”

“ _Too_ and that’s final,” Wade warns and finally sends off the message to Peter and prays it doesn’t show his age. Or his intentions. Or anything, Jesus, he hopes it doesn’t show anything because can he unsend a message? Wade frantically goes back to his phone to check and realizes, in despair, that he can’t actually unsend it and it’s too late now. It’s all too late, he sent it, he has to accept it, _he was in the military, this was nothing, he’s thrown grenades more dangerous than a single text message and yet_ —

“But you _are_ old, dad.”

“I’m _old enough_ ,” Wade corrects.

Ellie ignores it. “So can I have two pitbulls?”

“Nope.”

“But daaad,” Ellie whines, slumping forward exaggeratedly. “You said I could have a dog one day and today is a day! Just two!”

“Nope. Maybe one, but not until you’re _old enough_ because I ain’t feeding it. I can’t even feed myself.”

“But you feed me all the time, even when I don’t wanna?” Ellie asks, innocently. 

“Well, yeah, but that’s also because you never let me forget you’re a hungry little monster and all little monsters need their nutrients to become big, strong monsters,” Wade grins teasingly, and reaches over to pluck Ellie effortlessly from her seat on the edge of their dining room table, legs swinging happily, onto his lap, where Ellie immediately relaxes against his chest and happily clutches one of his bigger hands in her own tiny ones. “Look at your pretty hair! It’s holding out so nicely,” Wade admires, smoothing a hand over her healthy chestnut hair as she preens. “That spray was pricey, but worth it. So worth it. It doesn’t feel glued on like fucking cement for once.”

“It feels soft!” 

“Very soft! If I had hair, I would use it all the time,” Wade says, glumly for a moment, before brightening and booping her nose gently with his finger. “But since I don’t, you’ll just have to use it enough for the both of us, okay?”

Ellie nods gravely. “I’ll wear the bestest, most _beautiful_ , hair for you and me!” 

Sometimes, Wade can’t believe he had such a kind, thoughtful, beautiful—

“And Peter because I like him.”

—irreverent, stubborn, and _too clever for her own good_ daughter.

“ _Okay_ , that’s enough opinions for the day! Time for bed!”

“But it’s _seven_!” 

“And it’s time for bed! Crazy how that works, huh?”

“But dad! It’s barely seven! I still have time!” Ellie whines, kicking out in his lap furiously. “I wanna’ take a bath! With the bubbles!”

“Baby, it’s _seven_ —!” 

“Bubble bath!! I promise only a little bit! Please? Please, please!” Ellie begs, crawling around on his lap to face him before realizing she couldn’t without falling and just slumping in a furious little ball on his lap instead. “Just for a bit! I promise! I won’t say nothing else, okay?” 

“Bubble bath if you promise to drop it,” Wade decides after a moment and Ellie nods furiously and promises again to not mention Peter again. Wade holds back a twitch of a smile when she immediately brightens and promises to only be a little and she’ll be back in bed by 8:30, her usual bedtime. “Do you need any help?”

“Nu-uh!! I know how to!” Ellie’s voice drifts from down the hall, her excited footfalls thumping further and further away until she reaches her room. Wade is gazing after her fondly, thinking that maybe he’ll make another video with her only because she loves having her hair done up in a variety of different styles. In fact, he's thinking about attempting that really complicated style from Belgium when his phone vibrates and he's back to sweating through his t-shirt. 

“Here it is. Here lies Wade Winston Wilson, dead because a pretty boy in tights…” Wade trails off and stares at his phone, squinting because it looks like the text reads _I'm free after practice on Friday, if you want to go for some drinks at that bar down the block?_ and not _never text me again, that day I gave you my number was a mistake and I have seen the light_ or, okay, maybe not that dramatic but close. 

“He asked me out,” Wade mumbles, then his eyes widen enormously and he gasps, “HE ASKED ME OUUUUT! ELLIE! ELLIE, DAD HAS A DATE! ELLIE!!” He shrieks, running down the hall, tripping, crawling over to the bathroom, and standing just enough to kick the door open as Ellie splashes around in her bubbles and waves her arms in the hair happily. 

“Yaaaaaay!! You have a da-ate! You have a da-ate!!” 

“I doooo!! So daddy won't be able to drive you home that day because I have a _daaate_ with an _aaangel_ ,” Wade croons, reaching over for shampoo and scrubbing it into her hair fondly as she giggles. “So Friday, Al has to take you home!”

“Yes!! Al is the BEST! She lets me make her furniture!!” Ellie wiggles around in excitement. Ah, yes. Because Al was blind and old and was still trying to build that IKEA dresser she bought four months ago but wouldn't let Wade build out of some fucked up independent streak she had on now. “Are you gonna dress up daddy? You should dress up!! Oh, oh!! Is Peter gonna’ dress up? He should! You should tell him to because you'd both look pretty dressed up!”

“It's a bar, sweetheart, it's casual...I forgot to reply,” Wade realizes suddenly, and he anxiously pats himself down until he finds his phone. “Shit. What do I say??” 

“Um, yes?” Ellie cocks her head. 

“GENIUS!” Wade bellows, kissing her forehead and typing a quick _yes, I would like that!_ and hoping it didn't come off too forward. Or lame. Or show his age. 

“But you _are_ old, daddy, that’s why you’re a _dad_. I told you already!” Ellie rolls her eyes, listening to her dad nervously mumble to himself. He always wondered how she knew what he was thinking about. but her dad just tended to mumble his thoughts aloud most times. But Ellie won't tell him because she liked the bright-eyed way her dad looked at her when she helped him with his troubles. “But that’s okay. Peter likes daddies.”

Wade chokes on a laugh and stands up, wheezing out, “Th-that _definitely_ doesn't mean what you think it means, but okay. I-I, fuck, I love my kid, I’m never gonna’ let you live this down once you're old enough,” Wade ugly laughs and has to walk out while Ellie squints at him suspiciously. 

“ _Weirdo_ ,” she says, and goes back to playing with her bubbles.


End file.
